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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477904">each nearly, each almost</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/clasch/pseuds/clasch'>clasch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, M/M, Merlin gives Arthur a shave, Scruffy Pendragon Fest (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:00:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/clasch/pseuds/clasch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a rare occurrence for Merlin to see Arthur with any sort of stubble. He had, of course, seen it before, on longer patrols where conditions simply were not conducive to shaving. But they were not on patrol now and the sight of Arthur’s almost-beard darkening his cheeks against the rich brocade of his pillow was rather different from that same stubble against the rough cloth of his bedroll. On patrol, the shadow on Arthur’s jaw could be mistaken for dirt or general unwashed grime. Here, it made Arthur look older, more mature. Merlin rather liked it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Scruffy Pendragon Fest</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>each nearly, each almost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HAHAHA posting two hours before the deadline. Good grief. Anyway, enjoy some scruffy Pendragon goodness, friends.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had, Merlin realized as he gazed down at Arthur still sleeping peacefully, been several days since Arthur had requested a shave. Arthur typically asked every other day or so, and Merlin always took great pride in the act itself, carefully sharpening the small blade and working the shaving soap he made by hand into a thick lather. Thus, it was a rare occurrence for Merlin to see Arthur with any sort of stubble. He had, of course, seen it before, on longer patrols where conditions simply were not conducive to shaving. But they were not on patrol now and the sight of Arthur’s almost-beard darkening his cheeks against the rich brocade of his pillow was rather different from that same stubble against the rough cloth of his bedroll. On patrol, the shadow on Arthur’s jaw could be mistaken for dirt or general unwashed grime. Here, it made Arthur look older, more mature. Merlin rather liked it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point, Arthur’s eyes had drifted open, though Merlin didn’t notice at first, just followed the curve of Arthur’s jaw up to where his hair was just beginning to curl gently under his ears. “Merlin,” Arthur said, startling Merlin so badly he stumbled backwards, tripped over his own feet, and only just managed to right himself by grabbing wildly at the bedpost. Arthur laughed, still soft around the edges from sleep. “Never a dull morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin untangled himself from the curtain and offered Arthur a half-apologetic grin. “Breakfast?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mornings like this were his favorite: mornings when the sun shone and lit up Arthur’s face, crowning him with golden light, and Arthur smiled softly at him. They had been few and far between these last months as Arthur adjusted to his role as regent, even though he never called it that, and acclimated Agravaine to court, all while grappling with Morgana’s betrayal. Arthur woke most days with a short temper, often swiping dried tears from his cheeks, sometimes ignoring Merlin entirely, other times lashing out at every little thing. But there were still some shining mornings, like this one, when Arthur woke well-rested and carefree and Merlin’s heart soared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur rolled out of bed and stretched, groaning appreciatively when his neck cracked. Merlin busied himself with the bedclothes as Arthur tucked into breakfast, enjoying the warm comfortable silence that stretched between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin,” Arthur said after a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Merlin hummed, smoothing the corners of the coverlet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you always watch me sleep or is there something special about today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin dropped the pillow he had just picked up to plump. “Ah - what do you mean?” he asked, fumbling to retrieve the pillow and dropping it once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur raised his eyebrow at Merlin, eyes alight with mischief, teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drool,” Merlin said, turning away so Arthur would not see his blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Drool?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Arthur repeated, affronted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All over your face, sire. I thought your dogs must have gotten in during the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin, I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> drool,” Arthur said from much closer than Merlin expected and, without any further ado, put him in a headlock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They struggled for a moment, Merlin grappling for purchase on Arthur’s bare skin, Arthur holding Merlin in place with one strong arm as he ground his knuckles into Merlin’s skull, before Merlin managed to twist them around and fling himself backward, knocking Arthur onto the bed. But that did not quite work as anticipated because Merlin was laughing now, which allowed Arthur to wriggle out from underneath him and do some sort of complicated roll before tackling Merlin and pinning his arms above his head. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do not</span>
  </em>
  <span> drool,” Arthur said, a broad grin spreading across his face at his victory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, all right!” Merlin laughed, trying to twist away from the hand hovering over his side, poised to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tickle</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, gods above. “I surrender, you don’t drool, now let me up!” He tried to look cross, but found he could only beam up at Arthur, haloed in golden morning light. His gaze slid over Arthur’s face, trying to capture every detail of this shining moment, the scruff on Arthur’s jaw catching his eye again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes. “I have half a mind not to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he released Merlin’s wrists anyway and climbed off gracefully. Merlin, on the other hand, somehow got his foot tangled in the bedclothes, tripped, and undid all his efforts to make the bed in the process. He sighed, beginning again, and they slipped back into that warm, comfortable silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you really staring at then, Merlin?” Arthur asked, spearing a sausage with his fork and jabbing it in Merlin’s direction. “We both know it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> drool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally satisfied with the state of the bed, Merlin crossed to the wardrobe. There was training later, but first there was a council meeting and they were expecting that visiting noble, what was his name?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sire?” Merlin asked, rifling through the wardrobe before pulling out a loose white tunic that would look rather fetching with the shadow of stubble on Arthur’s jaw. He blushed, glad to be facing away from Arthur. What had gotten into him this morning?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you listening to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying anything important?” Merlin decided against the white tunic, choosing a Pendragon red one instead. It would look just as fetching, but, to be fair, they all would. He hung the tunic and a pair of black breeches behind the dressing screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Merlin.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But Arthur was smiling when Merlin chanced a glance over his shoulder, so Merlin pulled a face at him, even though his own smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I was - well, I realized you nearly have a beard.” Merlin ducked his head as he retrieved a pair of socks. If that meant Arthur couldn’t see the blush that once again reddened his cheeks and was now spreading to the tips of his ears, well. He was only doing his job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur was quiet for a moment, though, so Merlin looked back at him to see Arthur running a thoughtful hand over his jaw. There, framed in golden sunlight sat a king. Even bare-chested with hair still mussed from sleep and a smear of grease at the corner of his mouth, there sat a king. Merlin swallowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right, Merlin, it’s been far too long. Fetch the shaving blade, would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Merlin said before he could stop himself. He realized too late he sounded disappointed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I -” Merlin’s face flushed redder and he turned to rummage in the cupboard. “It looks - It doesn’t look </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad,</span>
  </em>
  <span> sire - ah, that is to say…” But Merlin wasn’t quite sure what it was he meant to say other than </span>
  <em>
    <span>you look even more handsome than usual, please don’t make me shave it off,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it just wouldn’t do to say that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bright sound of Arthur’s laugh echoed through the room and for a moment Merlin thought he might have said his thoughts aloud. “Thank you, Merlin. I’ll be sure to tell Sir Caradoc I didn’t shave before his arrival because you think my beard doesn’t look </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘bad.’”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. Merlin didn’t have anything to say to that, so he just pulled a face at Arthur, noting that the visiting noble’s name he had forgotten was Sir Caradoc as he collected the shaving supplies in the metal wash basin. He would make new soaps soon, he decided, turning the small lump of shaving soap over in his hand. The basin clinked against the table as Merlin settled in. He busied himself with the smooth back and forth of the blade over the strop, listening to the gentle rasping sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin ran the pad of his finger over the edge of the blade and returned to sharpening three times before he was satisfied. He grabbed the pitcher and had started filling the wash basin when he looked up to see Arthur looking at him with a strange expression on his face. Well, not strange exactly, but unexpectedly gentle, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fond.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something different about this morning, and it wasn’t just the shadow on Arthur’s jaw. There was something different about the way Merlin looked at Arthur, the way Arthur looked at Merlin. There was something different about Arthur’s teasing and Merlin’s teasing right back. There was something different about the familiar space between them at Arthur’s familiar table in Arthur’s familiar chambers. Or perhaps there wasn’t anything different at all. Not dramatically. Perhaps things had been changing gradually for months and Merlin had only just noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because there had been moments before, of course, moments where Merlin had nearly, or Arthur had seemed to, or they both had almost. But each moment, each nearly, each almost had chipped away at something larger. No, not chipped away, </span>
  <em>
    <span>smoothed,</span>
  </em>
  <span> like a river rounding the stones in its current.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment when Merlin cradled Arthur’s chin in one hand to rub the lather onto his skin had happened countless times before, but it had never felt so intimate. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at Arthur, looking right back up at him with the ghost of that fond smile. His gaze flicked to Arthur’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Arthur surged up to meet him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin was stunned at first and it was an awkward angle, but it was still a long moment before he pulled away, laughing breathlessly. “You got soap in my mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur somehow managed to look affronted and bashful at the same time as he blushed. “Well. You.” But he trailed away when Merlin lifted a hand to wipe the lather from Arthur's cheek and left it there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a long time to finish shaving Arthur. “You’re very distracting, Arthur,” Merlin said after the fifth? sixth? (Merlin lost track of the number as he tried to focus on </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> nicking Arthur with the blade) time Arthur tugged at his neckerchief to kiss him again. “Do you want me to finish or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not.” Arthur replied, pulling him in again. Merlin smiled into Arthur’s mouth at that, but leaned into the kiss anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose half-shaved will have to do, then.” Merlin dropped the shaving blade into the wash basin with a clatter and hopped onto the edge of the table, raising an eyebrow at Arthur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur swallowed, looking rather disheveled with his hair mussed from Merlin curling one hand into it to bring them closer and lather still smeared on one cheek. “For now,” he said, scrubbing the soap from his face with one hand. He stood and settled between Merlin’s legs and a different kind of warm, comfortable silence stretched between them again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, they laid curled together in the bed Merlin would have to make yet again. When Merlin pointed this out as petulantly as he could as he tried to suppress a grin, Arthur laughed and pressed a kiss to Merlin’s sweaty brow. Merlin burrowed further into Arthur’s neck, Arthur’s hair tickling his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, Merlin,” he said, raising himself up on one elbow and looking at him seriously. “I think I could do with a haircut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s jaw dropped. “Absolutely not,” he said and tangled his fingers in Arthur’s hair to bring them together once more.</span>
</p>
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